


A Shocking Gift

by Darklady



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Archaic and unexpected sex toy, Kink Meme, M/M, Medical Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the KINK! prompt : Rocky Todd sends Bertie a vibrator.<br/>I tried to, but it turned out that the gift went the other way. So. Rocky Todd sends Bertram Wooster a vibrator. (Or something of the sort.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shocking Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I have no chance of owning the characters. I have no chance of owning the universe. I suppose I could - in theory - own a Giant Power Heidelberg Electric Belt ( $18 - shown on page 476 of the 1902 Sears Roebuck and Company catalog) but as it turns out? Not that either. So unless Santa plans to be very VERY generous this Christmas? All I get is cute imaginary boys to play with.
> 
> I have no idea if these belts were for sale in London in the 20’s and ‘30’s. I sadly suspect that they were (people being people and quacks being quacks) but not where Bertie would encounter them.
> 
> Check it out at the Museum and Quackery.  
> http://www.museumofquackery.com/ephemera/heidelberg.htm

“A package from Mr. Rockmetteller Todd, sir.” Jeeves carried in the battered cardboard box, setting it on the edge of the piano bench.

I eased over, clearing space to turn and check the new arrival. My old friend’s name was indeed on the upper edge, although blurred in the usual way of ink and water. Under that was penciled Happy BD to BW. “Oh, that is ripping of him. However did he manage to hit the exact day?”

“Most likely by fortuitous coincidence. One could not trust the timing of the mail boats, nor indeed of the rural postal service in so sylvan a local as Mr. Todd’s retreat.”

I ran a light finger over the many stamps and transport labels. From the rumpled look of the exterior the package may as well have crossed by rowboat and come overland by donkey basket. “Still, a bit of luck that it landed today. I was feeling a bit ungifted. Not that Aunt Dahlia’s card wasn’t a bit of all right, and not that your spiffing gift isn’t all the celebration a chap could wish for, but come the day?”

“It is ever pleasant to be remembered by friends,” Jeeves agreed.

“Spot on, old fruit.”

And wasn’t Rocky Todd just the finest of chums to have come though for me.

Not, I knew, that I couldn’t have caught a cab over to the club. Not, I also knew, that any of the chaps there would have hesitated to buy a round and wish me another happy year. Not that I could not have even - had one Bertram W. Wooster been a nutter fit for Glossop and company - descended on my Aunt Agatha for dinner with the requisite round of country gentry. (A shiver passed at that. Such was the sort of celebration to take years off the four-score-and-twenty.)

None of those had appealed.

The day was rainy, so instead of the usual itinerary (bookstore, tailor, club) said Bertram Wooster had looked up from the bacon to declare that he would spend this birthday tucked up in the old homestead with a good book and a better valet. 

Not, mind you, that the day had lacked all tint of revelry. 

Jeeves had baked a small cake for tea, and presented me with the new sheet music I had spent the afternoon working out. It was a corking set of tunes by one Irving Berlin. Not to my man’s usual tastes, which made his choice of it all the sweeter as he had clearly picked to please rather than to be pleased.

A chicken sized for two was roasting, the occasional whiff of which hinted that Jeeves had one again Machiavellied his way into Anatole’s recipe book. For the post-prandial entertainment there were plans for Beethoven via radio concert and a comfy touch of snuggle before a warm fire.

Really, it was all a chap could wish for from a natal day.

That granted? Presents were spiffing things.

Snagging the silver letter opener I went to work with a will.

The wrappings gave way without complaint, and in a minute I was holding Rocky’s gift of… of… of whatever it was.

“What might you call this, Jeeves?” I held up the tangle of strapping. It was a tan canvas sort of flat twill some two inches wide. Some dozen bits of tin, each reminiscent of half a flattened eggcup, dotted the length. Coils of black electrical wire looped between them. 

“I believe it is what the Americans call an electrical belt.” Jeeves pointed to a flat box, the terminus of the massed wires. Once opened it displayed the usual positive and negative marking, confirming the man’s deduction.

As if in further proof Jeeves picked a pack of chemical batteries from the box. “One supposes these to be the proper sort.”

“A belt, you say.” I turned it to the horizontal, a view which brought little improvement. “They must make trousers differently in America.” I tapped one of the dull metal bells. It answered with a tinny bing. “How would you get this though the loops?”

Not even the interesting belt I had brought back from Oklahoma had decorations so large as that. (The tragic fate of said belt being something not to be contemplated on what should be a festival day. One could not quite call it departed, given that most of the silver reposed in Uncle Tom’s collection, but neither could one call it still a belt. Much as, I considered, this could not be called a belt.)

No.” I handed the whole mess off to Jeeves. “Sorry as I am to disappoint a chum these will not suit the Wooster suits.”

I had anticipated my man’s fervent agreement. To my surprise, what I got was a cool sniff. Really, I thought. Was that sporting?

Jeeves’ voice was cool. “I believe such a belt is worn under the suit, sir.”

“Under the suit?” I yelped. “Whatever for?”

Jeeves held out a thin booklet of instructions, doubtless retrieved from the same wrapping which had held the batteries. Or, as likely, from thin air. Jeeves being Jeeves and all that. “The electrical belt is said to increase one’s masculine vigor.”

“I say, Jeeves.” 

I had thought I was vigorous enough, but if Jeeves thought otherwise? Well, I had put on a few pounds, what with rich food and the weather being too rough for much in the way of long walks. Jeeves was always alert for the first hint of strained buttons, setting up a few rounds of golf or a stint of ocean bathing to put the young master back in trim.

“Are you quite sure about this, old chum?” I glanced again at the belt, now spread along the piano top in a proper order, then back at the brochure. From the text, the Heidelberg Electric Belt not only fortified the body against a fearsome lot of diseases but also quickened the blood, enlivened the nerves, and imparted vigor to the seminal glands.

The cover illustration showed the belt displayed on a chap of impressive, one might even say Jeevesian, physique. He was sketched in one of those body builder poses, all spread limbs and muscled chest. It was the sort of image that had inspired many a happy dream in this Wooster back in the youthful days before another dream rabbit had provided more corporeal inspirations.

“I have no direct experience, such things being rather rare in London, but?” and here came the sheep-cough of command, “the reputation of the device precedes it.”

And doubtless exceeds it, I thought. I am perhaps a bit suggestible at times, but far from being an actual fool. I had read the natural sciences, and been passed by my tutors with no more than the usual grumbles re: doltish British youth. No amount of voltaic fluid would shift the Wooster frame into such Adonis-like proportions as were suggested. Still, Rocky was not the sort to send a dud offering. Plus if Jeeves recommended the wheeze?

I pulled up my brightest grin. “Nothing to do but try it out, what?”

School life cures a chap of modesty, so I chucked trou without further demure.

“So. Power box out, I would hope?” I turned it a bit until the equipage rested low on my hips. It was not uncomfortable, for all the chill metal bits raised goose bumps where they pressed against bare skin.

“As you say, sir.” Jeeves moved behind me, snapping the batteries into place.

“But what is this bit?” I asked, looking down. Most of the machinery marched in proper order, understandable now that anatomy had been added, but one front section dangled without seeming purpose.

“The suspensory, sir? I believe the elastic loop goes around thus.”

Jeeves grasped a part of my person not generally grasped in the sitting room. Not that I in any way object to the Jeevesian fingers upon said p. of p. - or indeed any bit of Bertram- be it in the sitting room or any other. Still, said grasping was not in the general way a matter of putting things on, and prospectively mechanical things at that.

“Are you quite sure Jeeves?” I asked, not at all ashamed of the hesitation in my tone. “I mean, I al all in the favor of scientific endeavor, but not when it comes to…” Well, when it came to bits of my corpus that were … well… needful for future endeavors, if you take my meaning.

“I am merely observing the instructions sir.”

“Very well.” I allowed him to adjust a further bit of metal along the length of my … well… length. While the chill of metal was somewhat mitigated by the warmth of his nimble valets fingers, I could not help but think how much warmer those fingers could be without any metallic bits involved. 

I comforted myself with the certainly that the bits at potential risk were every bit as dear to the Jeevesian heart as they were to my own, and indeed even more precious if comments of the prior noctum were to be admitted to evidence. There were also the new night’s plans for further enjoyments along very similar lines. Given that I had likewise passed the day without offense of tie or of sock, a certain security of mutual self-interest could be assumed.

Taking my words for an order, Jeeves flipped the switch.

“I say, that tickles!”

Little jolts of electricity jumped from disk to disk. In my school days we had of course had the usual demonstrations of electrical stacks and telegraphic conductors, and being active lads we had ignored the cautions of our instructors in favor of thrusting little fingers into the sundry mechanisms. I had taken my fair share of shocks. Enough to know that this felt nothing like those misadventures.

It was, in fact, quite pleasant.

Even the lower bit. 

I said as much to Jeeves. “Not a bad thing, although I’d not want to wear it on a long train ride. And it’s rather…. Ohhh.

A fair portion of my blood was indeed speeding downward with visibly vigorous results. I shifted, not exactly confident that this was intended but also not wanting to short circuit - I believe that is the term - the shockingly pleasant experience.

Jeeves must have noticed as well, for he turned up the current.

Tingles ran up my chest, giving the suggestion that were I to look down I might see sparks jumping among the hairs. My nipples drew tight, as did my eggs. My rear cheeks twitched.

He raised the current again.

I jerked, rather like those frogs in science lab.

Quantities more blood stampeded south. It was rather a Niagara of movement, something on the order of spooked longhorns or the rush on race day when a favorite goes to long and promising odds. I had just so much hope of resisting the flow. That is to say, none.

Jeeves moved closer, pressing tight to my back. His body kept mine upright as my legs gave up on their proper duties.

I gasped as the current reached its peak.

Then? I did too.

“I say, Jeeves.” I gasped, once matters were concluded and he had settled me on the sofa with a brandy and soda. “Do you think that was intended?”

“So one might surmise, sir.” He detached the belt, wrapping it in a towel with his trademark fastidious care. 

“Well, then. I’d have to say it dashed well worked as advertised.”

Jeeves nodded his agreement. “That last bit seemed quite vigorous indeed, sir.”

I slumped into the cushions, letting the b. and s. resettle my invigorated nerves. It had indeed been a novel experiment, although not one I suspected my science tutor would have advised. Not with the way that chap ranted on about current and fluids and rowdy boys set to carelessly fry their eyeballs.

“Good heaven’s Jeeves!” I asked in growing concern, contemplating just how much liquid had been near to the current and just how near said current had been to Wooster. “Do you think a fellow could electrocute himself?”

“I doubt so sir.” Jeeves took my empty glass, setting it also on the tray for removal. “It would be a poor business plan to literally kill off ones custom.”

I sent a quizzical look at the bundle. “So you think the thing is safe? I mean, if I want to use it again.”

“If I might suggest?” Jeeves allowed his lip to rise slightly on the right, showing that secret sliver of grin that so melted my bones. “Only for use under my direct supervision.”

[This is so NOT the end.]


End file.
